For as long as I can remember, I have had this weird thing where I think that inanimate objects have feelings and I have the potential to hurt those feelings. I thought that I was the only person in the world who felt this way about inanimate objects, but I was reading old posts of one of my favorite blogs, Hyperbole And A Half, and discovered that Allie Brosh herself also has this issue along with many of her commenters! I no longer felt so alone in the world.
I told my mom about Allie’s post (my mom also really enjoys Hyperbole And A Half), and she told me a story about a woman who she used to see shop in a grocery store in her hometown who would only buy dented cans, boxes and other damaged items because other people had rejected them, and she felt bad for them. At this point I REALLY began feeling sane again because for one, I don’t binge buy dented cans to make them feel better and for two, my disorder mostly associates to stuffed animals, clearance movies, old trinkets in my room, and pillows and blankets. Okay.. that last part made me start questioning my sanity again.
When I was born, my mom made me this baby blanket that I called “Blanket”, and my grandmother made me a pillow that I called “Pillow”. I was a real creative kid, I know. I carried Blanket and Pillow with me literally everywhere I went. If mom or dad took me to the grocery store, Blanket and Pillow came with. If they took me to the gas station, Blanket and Pillow came with. Going for a walk? I couldn’t forget Blanket and Pillow. In fact, I drug them around with me so much that one day, Pillow just disintegrated. He (Pillow and Blanket were both male… I wonder what THAT means), just one day vanished into thin air and I never saw him again. I actually made a little pillow disintegrate before the age of four. What did you do with your life by that age?
My mom actually reconstructed Pillow for me to make Pillow 2 for Christmas one year.
Blanket was still going pretty strong at this point. None the less, within two years Blanket began falling apart. I did some shoddy sewing jobs on Blanket, but it was no use… he was also falling apart. My mom tried to help by suggesting we make another blanket to wrap around Blanket with a zipper so any time I missed Blanket I could just unzip the less than satisfactory blanket that was suffocating my real Blanket and he would technically always be with me. My mom only brought this up two times because each time it sent me into a psychotic fit and I would spent hours crying holding Blanket telling him I wouldn’t let them tear us appart.
I have managed to make him last until now, but he’s very fragile.
Honestly, I think I would have gotten over my quirk at some point in my childhood, but the movie Toy Story and my mom prevented that. When my mom took me to Disneyland, I found large stuffed animals of Woody, Buzz, Jesse and Bullseye that of course my mom had to buy me. One day, we returned to the hotel room and the Toy Story stuffed animals along with my stuffed animal gorilla George (who still travels with me everywhere I go) were in different positions like they had been playing all day long. My eight year old heart fell out my butt. My toys came to life and played with each other while I wasn’t there which meant they were fully capable of understanding when I rejected them! After this point in my life I made every effort to be holding every stuffed animal that I owned and Pillow and Blanket while I slept because they might be sad if I neglected them.
Later on, my mom informed me that she asked the Housekeeper at the hotel to move the stuffed animals when she came to clean the room. I think part of me though still believed my stuffed animals feel emotions and to this day I struggle to get rid of stuffed animals or little pieces of crap I’ve collected throughout the years.
I blame Toy Story and my mom if I am every featured on that show hoarders.